


Jake English's Magical Safari Adventure

by thekingofpucas



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofpucas/pseuds/thekingofpucas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro finds something that really shouldn’t be arousing, but somehow is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jake English's Magical Safari Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> I was sort of inspired by http://devilfuckingdickins.tumblr.com/post/16688676528 and an RP with the best lover ever. This isn’t my best work but I figured someone might enjoy it so. (Might go back and edit it later.)

You go by Bro, Bro Strider, to be precise, and you are bored out of your skull. 

Some coder geek over in Nevada is working on site maintenance for your lucrative business (ad)venture, and as such you are stuck with nothing to do for the better part of a workday. Instead of working on your erotic arts, you are stuck on the boob tube, surfing channels. There is absolutely, positively NOTHING on the television. Your choices are very limited as best, with the ultimate choice being between a kid’s show about talking rainbow lumps (which, all things considered, should be good for ironic purposes but somehow manages to disgust even you) and a sitcom that is so unfunny that you wouldn’t be able to locate the jokes without the laugh track.

With skills beyond the average man, your finger flicks over the button, changing fifteen channels per second. Dave absolutely requires at least fifty new channels each month to keep up with ‘cool stuff’, so you have enough to spare.

It’s during this rapid channel-switching that you hear it. IT. That is all you can describe IT as. IT is a voice. IT has an accent. IT is English and magical and spectacular and you can’t even tell why IT is talking but you are completely captivated and you can’t help but drop the remote. After you do so, you try to see whom the voice belongs to and what it’s talking about but it’s a long moment before you can hear anything other than the sweet, melodious sound.

“And here we have a prime example of its species, frolicking in a natural habitat.”

It is a nature program. That much you gather from the animals and the slow, European dialogue explaining their habits. Yet as you watch closer, it appears to be something even better. It’s a hunting show. A hunting show with guns, and safaris, and then there is that MAN with that VOICE and you stare because DAMN since when did old men get that sexy? He has greying hair and glasses and looks old enough to be Dave’s grandpa, and by transitive property, YOUR grandpa, but the way he carries himself and his hypnotic voice and that cocky grin he gets when he looks right at the camera and winks…

You don’t hear his name before you decide you are sort of in love. You don’t even realize that you are leaning forward in your seat, elbows on your knees, until a commercial blinks in and you jump back, unsure what was just transpiring. It promises that JAKE ENGLISH will be right back and DAMN his name is Jake English that is the sexiest thing you have ever heard and you can’t even get up. You just sit and wait because you want to see his face again. 

When he welcomes you back to his show, you feel a flurry in the pit of your stomach and as he speaks your clothes grow steadily tighter. That sweet, smooth voice is caressing your ears and sending shivers up your spine. You shudder and stare and watch that weathered face lined with creases. It’s somehow sexier than those young men you keep bringing home when Dave is out at a friend’s or otherwise occupied so that he can’t complain or get suspicious about you. You’ve seen your share of toned muscles and broad shoulders and you aren’t impressed by it anymore. This. This weather-beaten, lived in skin and the wiry build that comes from years of just LIVING no gyms or diet pills or anything… All of it is so attractive and you can’t take it and somehow you find yourself flushing under the lights of the apartment as you watch the documentary on the television.

Your abdomen tightens and you can’t stop your own head from dwelling on what sorts of things you want to do with this absolutely gorgeous old man. You bet he has callouses and rough skin and you imagine his hands stroking your thighs as you lean against his range rover in nothing but his safari shirt and laugh at him lovingly.

Dave isn’t home. It’s a school day. There’s no one around to hear or see you. Your hand inches slowly towards your groin, climbing the tent in your trousers as you continue listening to that charming accent. Inside, you can’t believe yourself. What sort of weirdo tugs one off to the nature channel? But Jake English is irresistible and you’ve never been very good at controlling your urges. The sound of a zipper is lost among the guns on the television, and soon your rough, gloved hand is closing around yourself and stroking, sending waves of pleasure through you as you watch the man you’re slowly falling in love with talk about rhinos and elephants. You quickly build up a pace, massaging yourself hard and fast because DAMN if you’re more aroused than you’ve ever been because of this.

He says the word “bird” and suddenly you cry out, throwing your head back against the couch. You’ve never considered voices attractive. You’ve never considered wrinkles or mustaches attractive either, but right now it’s the only kind of man you like. For today this is your type, one hundred percent, and it’s so overwhelming that you pull open your pants and spread your legs, getting better access. Your breathing is fast and laboured, and you lose the sound of the show in your enthusiasm. With your free hand, you grab the remote and jab quickly at the volume button, pumping English’s voice through the surround sound and letting the melodious rapture surround you.

“Fuck,” you swear, your hand not moving fast enough to satisfy your insatiable lust for a certain documentary host. Your eyes stare down under your glasses and past your chin to find his face winking and smiling, a violent tremor wracking your body at the pure eroticism of this action. You’re almost past the point of caring that you are masturbating to the nature channel. Your glasses slide down your profusely sweating nose and you can’t see through them, so you bob your head until they move the rest of the way and perch precariously there. 

Normally seeing an old man on the screen would be a turn-off, but you feel none of the revulsion that normally stops your self-pleasure. In fact, it only serves to drive you harder as you hear that husky, charming voice speak in low rumbles and see that mature, confident face in various levels of appreciation and teasing. It’s overpowering and enticing and you teeter on the edge of ecstasy with gentle gyrations into your hand.

A commercial comes on again and you can’t stand it because you want more of Jake English and his sexy accent and his sexy face and his sexy EVERYTHING. In your mind, you take yourself on that fucking safari and lay across his rover while he lowers himself on top of you and kisses you. His lips are probably wiry and firm and his mustache probably scratches yours while his rough hands dig up under your shirt and palm your chest. You arch into him and moan but really you’re arching into the couch and getting jolly off of some strange old man on the television set. 

But all that doesn’t matter because he’s back on and saying “good bye for now, chums” and you need to satisfy yourself while you still can and you hear mewls and moans and can’t believe you’re making them. The back of your throat pushes into your mouth as you cry out in a high-pitched keen, hand vibrating in its speed. Nownownownow! you tell yourself and as your screen boyfriend smiles his last knowing smirk you jerk forward and—

The key turns in the latch and the door swings open just as you finish spasming and twitching and you only have a few seconds to pull your pants back around your waist before Dave is staring at you. He knows. He looks to the television and sees the end credits for Jake English’s magical safari adventure show and turns to you and sees what you haven’t had time to clean up yet and it clicks. He’s not stupid. His face crumples into a mess of disbelief and his ironic facade disappears in lieu of wide eyes and a slack-jawed mouth.

“Dude,” he says, and nothing more is exchanged for a long pause. Then, “Are you fucking tugging it to the NATURE CHANNEL?”

And what can you say? It’s true, after all. Your brain whirs at a mile per minute and you try to muster up something that isn’t completely disgusting.

“Hot stuff,” you settle on, hoping your voice remains passive. Dave looks satisfied enough with the outcome. You don’t know that later Dave will look up exactly who Jake English is, and that his friends will call you a ‘geezer pleaser’ because of it. You especially don’t know that this is the reason Dave gets into that fight with Egbert that ends up with you apologizing to his dad over the hospital bill. Maybe some things are better left unknown.


End file.
